I love the way wet ink dries when I write in my journal. If I have nothing to say, I push the pen to see the letters and words form and glisten on the page. Sometimes I get lucky and my hand takes me where my brain can not. I write because it feels good. When I let go of my insecurities, detach from my fear of mediocrity, and embrace my simplicity, I find I have a voice that is all my own. I sound like me.